


Lessen the Ache

by Sookiestark



Series: Twelve Days of Westerosi Christmas [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:14:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: Theon Greyjoy, Maester of Ships,  and his wife, Jeyne eating dinner while visiting Dragonstone, thinking about their life together





	Lessen the Ache

Theon sometimes would go to the walk the ramparts at Dragonstone during a rainstorm. It did not matter if it was night or day. The minute the first sound thunder rumbled and the sound of the pealing rain he would go outside. It reminded him of his birthplace, the Pyke. There was a magic in the way the lightning cracked white against the sky, as if it had opened the shell of the sky and revealed the inside. In the sleeting rain and the snarling sea, he could almost envision the Drowned God grabbing the shore with a hundred tentacles and trying to pull Dragonstone into the sea, to pull all the land into the dark depths.

The storms were magnificent on Dragonstone. He would stand on the stone walls and could almost feel the magic flowing through the stone, as if the magic of Old Valyria was challenging the powers of the sea and the Drowned God. King’s Landing did not have such breathtaking storms. 

After some time, a guard would come out to remind the Master of Ships that he should go in before he was carried off by a wave or from a chill on the morrow. He would smile, showing none of his broken teeth. He knows that his wife has sent them to bid her Ironborn husband in. 

He is still sometimes surprised at how much she loves him, how much she cares for him. 

Theon doesn’t get to come to Dragonstone often, but he had wanted to come to see the new ships that had been built for the Royal Fleet, see how they would move and handle. Lord Velaryon said that the new style would shave a day of a seven day trip. He had come here to the deep waters of Dragonstone to see if the new boats were as impressive as the shipwrights had said. 

The storm was a bonus. It wasn’t too fierce, but fierce enough to remind him of when he was a child in his bedroom listening to the rain and the waves threaten to tear down another tower at Pyke.

When Theon gets to his study, she is there with his dinner. It is hot stew with warm bread and salty butter. Jeyne scurries around getting him a towel to dry off. He tries to shoo her away. He never gets sick and he tells her that he will live forever. 

She laughs at him and kisses his cheek, telling him he needs to shave. She is getting thicker as the years pass. He likes that more and more. She is sturdier of the two, happy and round. 

Jeyne is mostly bright, mostly happy. There are times she flinches and fear flashes bright from her eyes. She does not like some men. Theon could not tell you specifically why, but he knows who, because he often does not like them. She does not like cruel sports, like bear baiting or watching the Queen’s dragon’s feed, and she will never go to the kennels. Never. 

Theon tries to be a good husband. He remembers the small touches Lord Stark would place on his wife, secret smiles, small gestures. Life is made up of small things that make a person happy. It helps lessen the ache. His body aches from the damage that it has suffered but little things lessen it, the warm stew, the soft blanket, her laugh, her lips on his cheek. 

They saved her nose at the Wall with leeches. Even the healer had thought, it was too late to save it. But the blood flowed and she kept her pretty nose. He would have loved her regardless, but it would have been a hardship, another darkness. 

Jeyne is still pretty. When she smiles, it is like sunlight after a storm, or land to a drowning man. It is everything. 

Theon knows another time he would have thought Jeyne Poole beneath him and a bad match. He was Theon Greyjoy. Perhaps, Jeyne would have been good enough for a mistress or a salt wife. Now, he cannot imagine being married to anyone else. In fact, sometimes, he wonders if he is enough for her

She is still pretty, even after all the years and hardships. Theon, on the other hand, has prematurely aged. His hair is mostly grey. Because of his diet and her care, it is thick and full with some dark streaks, but it is mostly grey. Theon wears gloves all the time to hide his missing fingers. Sometimes he even wears them to bed. 

His teeth are broken and he must cut his food into small pieces because he cannot chew it. His body aches and there is always pain. He has teas, brews and salves to help him. His fingers ache and his feet and she soothes his nerves. He likes to feel her rub his legs and feet with her strong capable hands, working the pain out, lessening the ache. She makes the ache less.

She wraps her arms around him and tells him she loves him. He loves her more than she will ever know. 

He had asked Jeyne to wear her hair down in the Northern fashion and she did, long and loose. He likes the way the light shines off her brown hair, moving like it was the sunlight on the sea. 

Theon knows Court talks badly of him that he is a ruined half man, and that the Queen should not have made him the Master of Ships. But Queen Daenerys was loyal and her husband, King Aegon, had called Theon his foster brother, fierce and true. The King had forgiven him and Theon had only shown loyalty. The Royal Fleet grew and grew and he was a Targaryen man. He knew the Ironborn did not like this and the Westerners did not like it. In fact, none of the Seven kingdoms liked it. Theon could not give a fuck what anyone thought or liked. He knew who he was finally and he was a Targaryen man, loyal to the Crown. 

Theon knew there were other things the Court talked about behind him when he left a room. He could not care about those things, either. 

Jeyne and Theon had got married in Winterfell, after the victory over the armies of the dead. So many people were getting married that when Jeyne had taken him by the hand and led him to the small sept at WInterfell. He had smiled and told her yes. However, he had taken her to the godswood to say their vows. It felt more authentic, more true. 

That night she had tried to touch him and he had rolled over feigning sleep, leaving her hurt and bewildered. 

Six months later, he had still not tried to sleep with her. They slept like old septa's, back to back. He would lay there, pained and tense, pretending to sleep until he knew she was asleep. Sometimes, he would hear her softly cry. He had thought to put her aside and annul the whole damned thing.

It was more than the physical act. Jeyne knew his injuries and knew what he could and could not do. Ramsey had told her, shown her, humilated hin in hundreds of ways. It was not the lack of a cock that stopped him. It was the sound of Ramsay Bolton’s voice in his ears, “Ready her, Reek..” He did not think he would ever not hear it, while they were alone in their bed.

During the day, he was attentive, loving and kind, but at night when it was just the two of them alone, he would feel only fear that she might want more. He would change to abrupt, distant, and dismissive. Jeyne would quiet and turn inward, asking less, speaking less. 

One night, she had come to him and asked if he was disgusted by her. Theon had said that perhaps he had been unfair to marry her and burden her with him. He wondered if it made it harder for him since she had been there to see the worst of his captivity and torture. Sometimes, he wondered if that made it easier. He could not imagine another wife, but he wondered if he should have one at all. 

She had spoken softly to him, kneeling, “Theon, I love you. I know who you are. If anyone knows, I know and I want you still... But do you want me? If you don’t, I can leave..” 

Jeyne had kissed him, like he was still a man, like he was old Theon, untouched, arrogant, cocky. A heat flared in him and he pulled her to him. Jeyne was his sunlight, his heat. He never wanted her to leave him. He had pushed her on the bed and with steady hands he had made love to his wife.

When he had woken to her curled up in his arms, he had smiled but the darkness and the pain crept slowly in his thoughts. He did not know if he would ever be without the injuries done to his body, or the injuries done to his spirit. Perhaps, he should let her go. Perhaps, he would never truly love anyone the way a man should. However, she had woken and kissed him good morning.

He had spent the first few years with Jeyne in this quiet war with himself, wondering if he was good enough or whole enough for her.

 

In the day, he would build himself up. He was a hero of the War, the man who slew Euron Greyjoy, with one arrow through his eye. He had led the Royal Fleet. He had fought alongside Jon Snow against Cersei and her armies, as well as the armies of the dead. He was no coward, no half man. 

A man does not need all his fingers to shoot a bow. A man can do many things without all their body parts. A man could do much without all the pieces of his heart or soul. So every day and night, he waged war with himself.

Theon knew that there were some at Court who tittered about what he and Jeyne did in the privacy of their room. Once a knight asked him how he fucked his wife. It was the last question the man asked.

Fingers and a cock might not grow back but a spirit can heal, even one as damaged as his, in time and with the right healing.

Jeyne was good medicine for Theon Greyjoy.


End file.
